Haworth
Just a short ride (or a longer walk) across the South Pennines from my home lies Haworth. It is another Mill Town, this time Wool not Cotton. Often associated with the Brontes, it lies, like my home, in the South Pennines National Park. It lies in the Worth Valley and above it runs a rugged little valley heading up to Ponden Mill and Scartop. This shot was taken looking down from Penistone Crag over Stanbury.
Up here, it is windswept moorland and in Winter, quite bleak but utterly peaceful and serene.
The trees and bushes are bare this time of year. They stay that way longer up here and Spring comes late.
The Village was quieter when I was a little girl. Today, the steep little street that climbs to the Church and the Vicarage was thronged with tourists. The once busy, regular ordinary shops have gone now, replaced with bistros, tea shops and souvenir emporia.
I love the traditional wooden doors in the village. They have lasted many a long year. I have kept the old one on mine. Too many people replace them with cheap plastic doors.
Christmas Wreath
Visitors tread the wet flagstone pavement that leads past the church.
In the Square in front of the Parish Church.
Christmas Window
Looking back down Haworth's cobbled High Street.